Migration season to the north

Number of pages: 152 pages "Anything that attracted their attention to me?" I found her while she was under twenty, studying Eastern languages at Oxford, she was lively, her face intelligent and cheerful, and her eyes sparkled with curiosity. She saw me, so she saw a dark passion like a false dawn. She was the opposite, longing for tropical climates, harsh suns, and violet horizons. In her eyes, I was a symbol of all this longing, and I, a southerner, longed for the north and the cold. Mustafa Saeed is a person shrouded in secrets, led by his feet to settle in that Sudanese village to work in agriculture after he had been renting in Khartoum. He works on his land, cultivating and planting it. And on one of the evenings, English poetry flows from his tongue as if he were English. There is depth in his gaze, calmness on his face, and tranquility in his limbs that confidently infiltrates his limbs. He was not the storyteller of that man who migrated one day to the north, to the land of cold. That narrator, more passionate than the reader who follows the strange secret possessed by a more strange man, through the events and narratives of the season of migration to the north.